


Lunae

by somethinginbetween



Series: Lunae [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark, Fuck Or Die, M/M, no beta we die like allison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinginbetween/pseuds/somethinginbetween
Summary: Separate, the countries of Cerania would beleaguer the land and ruin themselves. Together, they would be great. Talia would make them great.-After his kingdom is conquered, Crown Prince Stiles is given a choice: mate Alpha Hale or perish
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Lunae [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153103
Comments: 57
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fantasy/worldbuilding. I have most of the story written out but need to edit it, so it will probably be updated every Friday or so (no promises).

The kingdom of Lunae was the largest in the continent of Cerania. It lay claim to the thick black forests and extensive cave systems of the West as well as the mountain range that separated Cerania from Lantia. Lunae’s jurisdiction over the mountains would have been challenged by one of the other twenty-two Ceranian kingdoms if the citizens of Lunae had not been werewolves. Faster and stronger than humans, they might have the sparsest population but were by far the deadliest of them all.

The mountains Lunae held were the key to the continent of Lantia, whose exotic spices and goods were a rare delicacy to the Ceranian kingdoms. Some brave traders out of desperation or greed dared to make the journey across. More than one met a grisly end.

The weres of Lunae were territorial and preferred to keep to themselves. They considered the human kingdoms as weaker and petty, constantly making and breaking alliances for insignificant amounts of power or land. The humans regarded the weres as savages with a strange religion and abnormal power dynamics. 

And while normally the two didn’t mix, the human kingdoms demanded a safe trade route. Tensions heightened, until High Alpha Aralith Hale suggested a compromise. A path would be created, safe for all and monitored by the weres. And in exchange, passengers would pay a toll. 

Lunae had been the poorest kingdom with a sparsest population. Their outputs were pelts, wood, and meat, not particularly lucrative. But with the toll, Lunae grew richer and richer through the decades. Their isolation ensured they kept out of the petty wars that bankrupted the other kingdoms. 

And then Talia Hale had changed everything.  
When she looked East, she saw a group of squabbling countries, fighting over petty disputes and ruining the land and their people while doing so. When she looked at Lunae she saw a rich kingdom, with the means and motive to bring the country to heel.  
Separate, the countries of Cerania would beleaguer the land and ruin themselves. Together, they would be great. Talia would make them great.

▲▲▲

The siege of Stillsea was dragging on. It had been a brutal year-long campaign. Their galleries were destroyed, the villages conquered, the surrounding land razed and the sea clogged with burned bodies. All that was left was the castle.  
But the Stilinski castle was formidable. Packed with food reserves and containing multiple wells, Derek’s lieutenants estimated it could hold for three more years at least.  
The Hale’s naval blockade was failing as well. The Stilinski’s had a far better knowledge of the sea. Even though Derek had smashed their ships in the Battle of Burnwater, smaller ships hidden in the castle were able to smuggle their way through.  
Three years. Derek made a fist and slammed it on the table. He didn’t have three years. Laura was putting the finishing touches on the defeat of Perpina and Peter and Cora had long conquered Laleous.  
But the Stillsea kingdom was notoriously proud. The smallest of the twenty-two, it had carved out a place in Cerania through sheer cunning and determination. It was the closest kingdom to Trenlios and trade had made them rich. It was known their ships were the greatest in the land. Stillsea loved the ocean, and the sea protected them and gave them all they had.  
And the people loved their royal family. These people would rather die for the Stilinskis than bend the knee. Derek had never met such resistance. The amount of needless death put a sour taste in his mouth.  
But High Alpha Talia had put him in charge of defeating the Stillsea Kingdom, and that was what he was going to do.  
Any way he could.  
“Leave me.” He commanded his lieutenants.  
This was not a kingdom that they could outlast. Not this far from Lunae with so many disgruntled countries between them.  
No, his army would starve outside the walls while the Stilinski’s ate well.  
But how to crack them? The castle was built up against the ocean and had a moat intrinsically connected to the sea. The drawbridge was up and the portcullis down, the gates closed and barred. The battlements bristled with spears and swords. Their watchtowers had guards in them at all times, look for any signs of an attack.  
Their defences were immaculate, Derek had to admit.  
He needed to find a way to bring that drawbridge down.


	2. Chapter 2

They met at high noon under a white flag. Derek had considered killing them here just to get it over with, but likely as not that would just strengthen the castle resolve and then they would really be here for three years.  
King Stilinski sat across from Derek on a red stallion and gave him a measured stare.  
Behind him were his young son, the heads of his houses, and his knights. They glittered with their blue-silver armor underneath a banner of a white ship on a blue sea. Derek ran his eyes over Prince Stiles. The boy was attractive, with honey colored eyes and unblemished pale skin.  
Derek did not bother with an introduction. They all knew what they were here for.

“Your people are dead, your ships are smashed, and your lands burned. This war is all but won. Bend the knee, and live to fight another day.”

“We have food and water to sustain us for at least three winters. Impeccable smugglers. Loyal soldiers. A wide moat. You are on the outside of our cozy walls and far away from Lunae. You’re surrounded by recently conquered countries that are still hostile toward you. I do not envy your position.”

“Brave words. But you know there is truly only one end to this. We have conquered every kingdom we’ve come across and will conquer what little remains. All your allies have abandoned you, and no help is coming.”

“The Stilinski’s are our own people with our own sovereignty. We choose to keep it.”

Derek’s lips thinned, “I have written to my sister Cora to send me the bodies of plague victims. We will send them over with a catapult. Then, every day morning and night arrows will rain from above. Your knights will rot inside their armor as they fight. They’ll fall from the wall, filling the moat and we will use them as a stepping stone to destroy your walls.”

“You say bend the knee but your words do not inspire submission. You think we will kneel to brutes that threaten our livelihood, that kill our people? Did our troops fight and die for nothing?”

It was folly for them to even fight in the first place, Derek thought, “Open your gates. You will be shown mercy. Your principles are brave but the people around you should not have to die for them. ”

“You think I make this decision alone? No, that is not how Stilinski’s rule. My words reflect how my people feel. My people have seen the werewolf plague spread across Cerania. They want to remain human. We saw how Neres fell and the brutality inflicted upon them. Did you promise them mercy too?”

Derek grit his teeth, “If you bend the knee, none of your people will be bitten. You will be named the Warden of Stillsea and the naval blockade will disappear overnight. You can rebuild and grow your province under High Alpha Talia. Some hostages will be taken to ensure compliance and your knights will join us to begin subduing Dorian. You will have one day to decide. If tomorrow at noon you open your gates, I will consider my offer accepted. If not, then the Stilinski name will be wiped off the map forever. Sleep well.” 

Derek turned his gelding and walked away, his retinue following him.

▲▲▲

King Stilinski sighed and stared out to the sea, “They are fair terms.”

“Only if we have already lost.” Stiles analyzed the map below him. They had been able to get a load of beer and grain last night, the boat successfully evading the blockade. If one could do it, others could too.

“Our villages are gone, traders no longer visit our ports. How much more defeated do you want us to get?” The crown weighed heavy on his father’s head, Stiles knew.

“Our power lies in this castle. I only need a few more days to prepare the charm. Then we truly will be safe and out of their reach.”

“You’ve been promising this charm for over a year now, and we have nothing. I need to start looking at what we have, not what we might have.”

“We have Stillsea. One man in this castle is worth five weres beneath it. We might not be able to beat them in battle, but we can chip away at their strength. Even if the charm is not ready we have wolfsbane arrows and silver swords, both in sufficient quantities. It will be enough to ward them off.”

King Stilinski shook his head, “You are young my child, and still idealistic. And your pride is hurt from the destruction of your ships. But Derek had the right of it. The Hales have waged this war for thirty years. They’ve wrested together a good portion of Cerania and they won’t stop until they have it all.”

“Which is why we must stand against them!” Stiles felt his temper flare, but calmed his voice before speaking again, “Do you remember the fall of Neres? The destruction of Telvia? Masacres.”

“Savages they may be, but it is their strength that has pinned us here. We are well stocked at the moment, but what about in a year? What about in two? I do not doubt Derek’s military prowess. Our men will die holding these walls and this is the only chance we will be given to back out.”

“I know this is not a game.” Stiles spat out, “I remember that day, on the Burnwater, as our men and women died around me. Their cries as they jumped into the water, the smell of burning flesh.” Stiles paced across the grey tiles, “The Hales promise to be fair, but are they to hold to their terms? What if we surrender and they slaughter us all? It will be too late to change our minds then as well.”

His father sighed, at a loss for words. Stiles filled his silence, “Soon my charm will be set and Stillsea will truly be impervious. Then we can slowly chip away at them, while smuggling in resources that we need. Our allies know that once we are defeated, Lunae will turn their attention toward them. It is in their best interests to aid us.”

“You think Lydia would make Dorian rise for us, but I know that woman. She knows not to support a losing battle.”

Stiles closed the map, “You taught me not to make decisions alone. Gather the generals. This is not our decision to make. We’ll make it together.”

The assembly lasted well into the night. But buoyed by Stiles’ heartening speeches, they came to a conclusion. Terms would be sent back. Stillsea would receive hostages as well and their knights would not join the Lunae troops but stay to protect their castle.

It would be a test. If the Hales should accept, then submitting would be bearable. If they didn’t, then holding their ground would be worthwhile.

It would give Stiles an extra day to for the enchantment to work.

▲▲▲

At high noon the drawbridge was let down. But instead of the king, a messenger skittered forward, giving Derek a parchment.

Derek read through it, before crumpling it up, “Do I have a day to decide?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Then tomorrow, you shall have an answer. High noon.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sounds of the ocean were calming in the humid air. She could hear japes and laughs from the other Stillsea soldiers walking the parapets.  
Today’s night was tranquil and undisturbed.  
The festivities of earlier had faded away but she still felt woozy from the ale. They had feasted as if it was their last, which it could very well be. Tomorrow they would find either peace or battle.  
Above the crash of the waves, she heard a distant thunk, like someone had punched a bag of grain. The laughter had ceased. Something clattered off to the side. That was strange. She peered into the darkness but the torches blinded her.   
Her companion beside her nervously looked around,  
“Did you hear that?” He asked. All of a sudden an arrow sprouted from his head.  
She opened her mouth to scream but all of a sudden she was choking on dark coppery fluid.   
▲▲▲  
There was no moon. A good omen, Derek thought. Luna knew her absence would aid them tonight.  
He watched the guards get taken out, two by two, their torches falling. None of his archers had missed a shot. He sent a prayer up.  
He hummed, low under his breath at a frequency that humans couldn’t register and six weres sprung forth from the ranks. They flung weighted grappling ladders to latch onto the walls and dove into the moat, before resurfacing. He’d found the best swimmers among his ranks.  
Derek watched with satisfaction as they climbed. The ocean that protected Stillsea so well was providing the noise to cover their attack up.  
But halfway up, he noticed something was happening. The alphas were climbing slower, shaking their heads as if a fly was stinging them.  
Something was happening to them. They were already shifted, but he could see their forms begin to flicker.  
One fell down to the moat below. He did not resurface.  
Derek’s stomach tightened. The Stilinski’s must have found one of the old incantations, from Trenlios or the old Empire.  
He didn’t like the idea of attacking a castle with hidden magical enchantments. If the entire castle was imbued with it, he would have to send the humans, although he trusted them not. And they died far too quickly for his liking.  
Another fell off, collapsing into the crashing water below.  
The four that were left had a pace that had slowed to a crawl. Anxiety ran through him. If his alphas failed to lower the drawbridge then they really would be here for three years.  
The four dragged themselves to the top, collapsing on the parapets.  
Two got up and staggered through the darkness, making their way toward the gates and the windlass. No alarm sounded. Their breaths were catching in their throat, creating raspy, tight sounds that made Derek take a deep breath, grateful for the air that filled his lungs.  
He heard them turn the gears and slowly the drawbridge began to lower.  
A shout went up within the walls, followed quickly by a warhorn.  
But Derek was already leading the charge forward, leaping up onto the still lowering drawbridge and racing to the castle. The waves of the moat crashed underneath their trampling feet as he howled.  
But as he charged through the walls, he began to feel woozy. His head pounded with pressure and his eyes watered.  
The walls. The walls of Stillsea were imbued with wolfsbane. He had to hand it to the Stilinski’s, they were clever.  
But the spell was weak still, it hadn’t set. He forced himself to keep moving, to not show weakness. The farther he got from the outerwall, the stronger he felt.  
“Away from the wall, away from the wall!” He cried out. His soldiers did not need to be told twice, shoving forward in an effort to get away from the feeling.  
They were met with resistance in the courtyard, half asleep soldiers rallied together with gilded silver armor.  
His host cut through them. He could smell fermented grapes on their breath.  
A battering ram was brought forth, smashing the large oak doors and Derek’s army charged up through. Stillsea’s knights had assembled and the two armies clashed.  
He was met by a knight layered with thick blue armor and a sword that was soaked in Wolfbane. Derek roared, keeping his distance. He feigned an attack and the knight dodged, all slow human reflexes.  
The armor had slowed him down, Derek observed. Inside his armor, the human was stinking of fear. But it was to his credit that he attacked. Derek almost let him hit him, before dodging out of the way. The weight of the sword and the knight’s momentum carried him forward. Derek ripped off the helmet as he passed by and raked his claws through the man’s neck.   
He was dead before he hit the ground.  
Turtles, Derek thought. All these humans were turtles.  
The castle was full of shouts and screams and heavy with the scent of blood. Derek pushed forward, meeting men and felling them as quickly as they appeared.  
Even with his eyes tinted by bloodlust he could see the Stilinski castle was nothing if not beautiful. In the dim light it glimmered silver, with chandeliers decorating the ceiling and portraits covering the finely painted walls.  
The world had turned into chaos as they began to push up the stairwell.  
Someone poured oil down on them but it wasn’t heated so all it did was make the stairwell slippery. Derek could deal with slippery. He launched upward and ripped the head off the woman in front of him.  
He needed to find the king’s chambers. They planned to give this castle to the McCalls, a small branch of the Hale family. For any claim to be respected the Stilinski line had to be dead.  
As he thundered upward, the castle only grew grander. The staircase had silver banisters, the paintings gold frames. Exotic tapestries lined the wall. Oh yes, the Stilinski’s had done well for themselves in Cerania.   
The sounds of battle began to fall behind him. In the corridors he heard fearful hearts beating behind the doors where the humans hid. But these chambers weren’t grand enough.  
He found a tower and followed the stairs up. The battle raged below, the screams of the dying drifting upward.  
There was a singular soldier at the top, fearfully gripping his sword. Derek thought that was strange. King Stilinski usually had his three silver knights guarding him. Dead bodies littered the floor.  
A spear was thrown at him that he swatted aside. The soldier turned and ran but there was nowhere to go. He banged at the double doors. They were beautiful, painted in an image of the ocean with hidden creatures detailed beneath the depths.  
“Open up!” The man cried, “Open the door.”  
Derek walked over to him and ripped his head from his body. The blood sprayed, maring the beautiful scene.  
He blasted through the double doors.  
The room was beautiful, just like the rest of the castle. A cream carpet covered the floor. There was an entire wall covered in books.  
Two humans were grappling on the floor.  
Derek picked up the figure on top and ripped his heart out, before casting aside the body. The carpet was no longer white.  
The other human sat up. He was wearing a white nightgown but it had been ripped, leaving a pale white expanse of flesh and displaying a perfectly formed nipple.  
It was the Prince, he realized. Crown Prince Stilinski.  
Derek launched himself forward and pinned him to the ground.   
He drew his claws up to the boys neck. The Crown Prince was the next in line to the throne, they needed him dead.  
His pulse beat like a rabbit but the boy didn’t cry out, didn’t flinch. At least he’d die honorably.  
Something made Derek lean down and smell him. He smelled like an ocean breeze, wild and unpredictable.  
His blood was up and part of him thought of taking him then and there but something stopped him.  
“How old are you?”  
“Fifteen.” The boy whimpered out.  
Derek picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, if you would.


	4. Chapter 4

The moon banner fluttered in the breeze by the time the sun fell on Stillsea walls. He’d had to get a human to put them up. No were could come near the wall and it had slowed down the cleanup down to a crawl. Derek dragged himself to walk through the gates, the cut on his arm burning. He had an arrow in the thigh that needed to be pulled out but the medics had more pressing problems than him. And he needed to talk to someone first.  
Derek slid open the window latch. The boy’s scent was bright with salty tears, “What enchantment did you use on the walls?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles’ replied with a steady and an irregular heartbeat.

Derek crossed his arms, “I think you do.” 

Only silence.

Derek lunged forward, rocking the carriage and enjoying how the boy’s heartbeat rose.

“What enchantment did you use on the walls?” He growled.

“You think I’d tell you?” The accusing voice replied back cooly, defiant to the last.

“You will if you want to live.”

Derek waited a second, before shaking the carriage again, “Tell me.” He hissed.

“Blood.” Stiles’ voice came back, “Werewolf blood.” But his heartbeat still skipped.

Derek grit his teeth but internally he was pleased. Stubbornness indicated loyalty. He would have expected no less.

▲▲▲

He spent a week trying to track a mage down but they’d all fled. The ones in this area were probably loyal to the Stilinski’s. But with time the enchantment began to fade on its own. The McCalls settled down into their new home and Derek’s troops were able to depart Stillsea. They would be able to make it back to Lunae in early winter.

▲▲▲

There had always been a dark sense of foreboding surrounding the Lunae kingdom. People were afraid of them, avoided them at all costs. And they were right to fear because one day it had erupted, conquering the surrounding kingdoms. Stiles and his father had joined coalition after coalition but they’d all fallen one right after the other.  
And now Stillsea too.  
Stiles estimated that perhaps they were on day thirty. He’d lost count after day twelve. The problem was that it was just so fucking boring. Everything blended together after a time. They’d given him a change of clothes, a scratchy linen shift and some pants that were beginning to smell.  
His prison wagon was completely bare, with only a chamberpot and a threadbare blanket to keep him company. It wasn’t long enough to comfortably stretch out and most of the time he woke with a crick in his neck.  
Mostly he talked at his guards to pass the time. They would never respond, although a few times he’d heard one of them smother a laugh. They were changed out every three days so Stiles couldn’t even get to know them.  
His world had diminished to a small window and as they passed through the land, his eyes taking in kingdom after kingdom. The white sand cliffs of Daytona, the grassy hills of Telvia, the markets of Neres. He’d always wanted to explore these places, just not like this.

He’d spent the first week silently crying to himself. Leaving Stiles alone with his brain was never a great idea. Regret poisoned his days. He’d been so adamant in rejecting the terms set out for them. Maybe his father would still be alive if they’d accepted. There was nothing to distract from the pain, so he sat there and felt numb, left to remember that night, that horrible night, replaying over and over again.

He'd awakened to the sound of two men entering his bedroom. They were wearing Stillsea colors but he'd never seen them before. Where were his guards? They moved to tear his nightgown off of him but he'd shoved them away, hitting one over the eye who stumbled away cursing.  
They advanced, daggers in hand. His sword. He had to get to his sword but it was safely tucked away on the other side of the room.  
Stiles fought but part of him had been aware of the background noise. Sounds of battle and war. He’d known instantly that they’d gotten inside the castle. He’d known that he was dead either way.  
He managed to disarm one, breaking his hand and sending the blade spinning and Stiles had scrambled for it but the other one had gotten to it first.

The man cursed cradling his hand, “Fucking bitch. I’ll have him when you’ve broken him in.”

The soldier above him laughed with broken teeth, “That’s fine. I like breaking them in.”

But here he still was, alive and captured. Inside a wagon with nothing to do but remember the past. 

They fed him twice a day. At first he’d refused the food and it came and went uneaten, but soon his body betrayed him and he’d accepted the porridge and ate.

Sometimes he’d just sit and listen to what people were saying. 

His father was dead, that was for sure. He’d heard they had other Stillsea captives, but they must have been held somewhere far from his prison because he never saw them.  
They passed rivers and valleys, waterfalls and ravines, only stopping to make camp for the night. Days turned to weeks. The monotony continued on and on until one day they stopped earlier than usual. Stiles listened. The sound of the camp had a different tone to it. He peered out his tiny window. The soldiers were out and about, unpacking the wagons and carrying packages away.  
A few figures ran to embrace the soldiers and Stiles averted his eyes at the indecent displays.  
And then he waited around some more. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. The weather had grown colder as autumn rapidly turned to winter. And Lunae didn’t have mild winters like Stillsea.

Eventually the door opened and two unsmiling guards escorted him out. Stiles debated making a break for it but stopped that train of thought instantly. Both of them looked were and Stiles was unarmed with cold iron surrounding his wrists. He’d make it a meter, maybe two.

There was one thing he hadn’t been able to figure out sitting alone in that box. Why wasn’t he dead? If the Hales instituted a new warden for Stillsea like he’d heard, they had no use for a Stilinski. They’d only threaten the McCall claim. 

It was possible they had some tribal ritual awaiting him. It was going to be a full moon in two days, he’d heard them talking. Perhaps they needed royal blood for a performance. Maybe he should have starved himself to death in that little box when he'd had the chance.  
His guards walked him past the wagons and tents and in front of him, Stiles saw the largest tree he’d ever seen in his life.  
It was so massive it blotted out the sun, large leafy branches sprawled against the sky.  
Eucalyptus, if he recalled correctly. The tree sacred to the werewolves.  
It’s root system curled around the entrance to a large cave.  
Weres were coming in and out  
So this was Lunae’s castle. It was magnificent in a savage sort of way.


	5. Chapter 5

The cave was large, the floor made of smooth cobblestones. Torches lined the walls, giving off enough light for him to see the different inhabitants running to and fro. He caught a glimpse of Heather among the masses and wanted to shout out but they jerked him away into a more narrow passage.

Around them, everyone was headed in the same direction and they followed.

He could tell they were going deeper by the slope of the pathway.

“So where are we headed to?” He asked, keeping his tone light. His voice didn’t echo, absorbed by the dirt walls.

As expected, no answer.  
The weres in front of them were slowing down until they were standing in a line. His guards pushed past them

The tunnel opened up into a large atrium, airy and light. The ground was paved with light gray stone. A stream burbled in the corner and it turned into a small waterfall that trickled down out of sight. Sunshine shone through the ceiling of roots far above, bathing the room with a silver tinge. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed around. It was beautiful. 

At the front on a raised platform a panel of weres sat facing the court. He could feel Derek’s stare on him but his eyes were drawn to the older female in the middle, tall and proud. Everyone in the room had gravitated toward her presence. Even though he’d never seen her before, Stiles knew it was Talia Hale.

Her throne was carved out of the eucalyptus tree, it’s wood smoothed due to time. A silver crown sat easily on her head.

The guards bypassed the line of people, pulling him up to the very front.

Talia was ordering the gold taken from Stillsea to go toward rebuilding the fleet of ships, which had been badly wounded. With grim recollection, Stiles remembered the day that his fleet had been smashed at the Battle known as the Burnwater. Upon losing their first naval battle, Derek had come prepared with fleet decked out with fire catapolts. Stiles had lost most of his fleet but not without managing to ruin Derek’s as well.

He heard the herald speak, “Stiles Stilinski of the house Stillsea.”

Talia motioned them forward and he was led to the middle of the room. He looked up to study her. Know who your enemy is, his father’s voice reminded him, you cannot fight someone if you don’t know their strengths and weaknesses.

She had a stern face and smooth brown hair. A healed battle scar marred her cheek. She was not young, Stiles could see that, but there was a vitality to her that made him think just for a second, that she might not have any weaknesses at all.

The Hales stared at him, their gazes piercing him. He did not bow.

She spoke, “Is this him?”

Derek nodded.

“Very well. He’ll do.”

And then he was being ushered away by his guards, “He’ll do for what?” Stiles asked them.

No response.

They took him through the passages, twisting and turning too many times for Stiles to keep track. They passed atriums and rooms, hidden rivers gushed below his feet. Stalactites and stalagmites glittering in the darkness and carvings shown in the light, where there was light. At some points he could barely see. He tripped and they yanked him upwards.  
“Hey careful on the arms. Need them to survive.”

He should have made a break for it before. Now the wolves were in their element.

They walked past a corridor with numerous doors, some painted and others not. He caught a glimpse of two children, running along naked. They stopped and stared at him curiously.

A female was carrying a large jar and making conversation with abolescent. Further along a male with a baby boy in his arms was singing a lullaby that Stiles didn’t recognize.

These must be their dens, he realized. An entire city below the ground. He thought perhaps they were on the way to the dungeons but instead they stopped at one of the plainer doors. Stiles noted, with dread, that there was a lock on the outside. They threw him inside.

He landed painfully on his arm as the door slammed shut behind him.

He got up and threw his weight against it, “Hello? Hello? What’s going on?”

No response. The doors were well made, thick and soundproof. He didn’t even know if they were still there or if he’d been left to rot.

He turned around.

The room was tiny and sparse. A twin bed in the corner with a nightstand off to the side. A tiled floor. There was an indent in one of the walls that would work as a shelf.

The only light source was in the top corner above the bed, a small opening among the roots.

Stiles grabbed the nightstand and lifted it so it stood on the bed. But even then, his fingertips weren’t close enough to find purchase. He jumped, trying to see if he could get himself close enough. But where there should be air, his fingers hit glass.

Confused, he jumped again and again he felt a barrier. It had to be some sort of magic. It looked as if there was nothing there at all.

The door opened and Stiles, in his infinite grace, fell over.

From the ground he looked up and saw a blond female and a dark-skinned male staring down at him. They were carrying a basin.

She looked down on him and turned to her partner, “Are you sure we have the right room?”

“He said 306.”

“You’ve got to be joking me.”

“Who are you?” Stiles asked, getting up and brushing off his pride.

“I’m Erica.” The blond one said, before pointing to the guy, “That’s Boyd.” They set down the basin.

“Are you werewolves?”

“Kid, most everyone you meet down here is gonna be a werewolf.” Erica reset the nightstand and smoothed down the bedding while Boyd walked out and returned with two buckets of water. 

Stiles took a look out the door and saw the guards were still there, “Why are you here?”

“We’re to give you a bath. You do want a bath right?” Erica asked.

Stiles did want a bath. He hadn’t had one since Stillsea and he could tell he smelled. But prisoners don't generally get servants, “Why?”

“Because you reek.” She said bluntly.

They were acting so nonchalant that his surprise felt uncalled for, “But I’m a prisoner.”

“We’re just following orders.” Boyd said. Erica moved toward Stiles but he flinched, back hitting the wall. He didn’t trust these werewolves.

She rolled her eyes, “We’re not going to hurt you. And unless you want to bathe in those rags, they have to come off.”

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

He took off his clothes and sat down cautiously in the basin. The water was surprisingly warm.

Boyd poured water over him and Erica rubbed him down with some sort of soap. It smelled of eucalyptus. 

“Do you guys know what’s going to happen to me?”

“Yes.” Erica said, as she scrubbed down his arm with some sort of sponge. She was not forthcoming. Boyd was massaging his head and Stiles almost groaned at the sensation.

“Am I going to die?”

“What? No.”

“Then why am I still alive?”

“Derek has chosen you as a mate.” Her voice came from above him.

“What?” Stiles asked, sure he misheard.

But still she repeated her statement.

Boyd dumped a bucketful of water on his head and for a second Stiles couldn’t hear, see, or say anything.

“Derek Hale?” He said incredulously. The one who murdered his people, overthrew his kingdom? His brain wasn’t processing it.

“The one and only.” She ran more water down his back, rinsing the rest of the suds off of him.

“Stand up for us, will you?” She said, holding a towel up. 

Stiles was still in shock, huddled at the bottom of the basin, “Mate?”

“Yes. It’s like our version of a marriage.” Boyd yanked him upward and they began drying him off.

“I can’t mate with Derek.”

“Sure you can.” Erica said in a casual, light voice.

“No. No that’s not going to happen.”

Boyde and Erica shared a meaningful look that Stiles completely missed the meaning of.

“I think it is sweetheart.” She said sprightly. 

“No. No I can’t.”

“It will happen.” Erica said, her voice no longer cheerful, “It will happen, or you will die.”

For once in his life, Stiles was at a loss for words.

Erica lifted him out of the basin while Boyd collected the bath materials.

They moved smoothly and evenly, not bothering to glance at him. He watched them numbly, too confused to register a reaction.

When they departed, they left a set of clothes at the base of his bed.

He sat down on the bed, horror soaking into his bones.

▲▲▲

“Did you really have to tell him like that?” Boyd was asking her.

Erica shrugged, “The boy has to know. The sooner he understands his situation and accepts it, the better.”

But the sick feeling in her stomach wasn’t going away.

Boyd sucked in a breath, “And they say I’m the savage one.”


	6. Chapter 6

The tears came unbidden, and once they started they didn’t stop. His grief poured out of him. He wept for his castle, his house, the people of Stillsea. Once he began, it was like a floodgate had opened, his sobs tearing through him like a hurricane. Dark thoughts swirled around him, his fleet burning around him, the feel of the man above him, the blood and gore drowning his castle as he’d been helplessly carried away.

Helpless and useless. He had no power. He’d rot underground for the rest of his life.

He heard his father echoing in his mind. They are fair terms.

Why hadn’t he listened?  
Was he really that prideful? That out of touch with reality?  
Lydia had warned him, always trying to take him down a notch. He remembered her striking red hair as he’d helped her into the carriage into the carriage. Will Stillsea gone, they’d pin their focus on Dorian.

Stiles felt like his heart was breaking. Through the edges of his periphery the door opened again, and the two weres returned.

When he was a prince, he hadn’t permitted anyone to see him cry. Tears were a weakness and he didn’t have any. Now as they walked into the room he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His pride had died with Stillsea.

The blond one sat beside him on the bed, “Come on, have some stew. Having some food on your stomach will make you feel much better.

She made a move to pat him and he pushed away from her. He didn’t want the comfort of one of them.

She spooned up some and offered it to him, “It’s hot and fresh and absolutely delicious.”

He grabbed the bowl from her and threw it against the wall. Damn them all. He’d starve before he accepted a meal from them.  
Erica stood up and walked out, anger written over her face but the darker one stayed to clean it up. Stiles curled up on the bed, sobs still wracking his body.

He was wiping down the wall when Stiles got an idea, “Please. Your name is Boyd right? You have to help me.” A deep shuddering breath, “I’ll do anything. Anything.”

Boyd continued to pick up the chunks of stew, but Stiles knew he was listening, “If you have any humanity at all. At all... I can’t. I can’t do this. You need to get me out of here.”

Boyd rang out the towel, not looking him in the eye.

“Listen, how would you feel if you were me? If all your family and friends and everyone you knew got wiped out and you had to marry the man who did it?”

Boyd stood up, “You’ll come to find Derek Hale a good mate.”

Stiles wanted to throw something at him as he began to walk out. But instead he took a deep breath and got out of bed, trailing after the receding figure, “Boyd, just think for a minute. I could help you. I still have contacts at Stillsea. What do you want? I know all the traders, all their goods. I could make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. ”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” Boyd shook his head, walking out the door, leaving Stiles to his tears.

The next time the door opened, Stiles launched his way through and made it all of one meter past Erica before the guard’s arm shot out and grabbed him by the scruff. The guard picked him up as if he weighed nothing and threw him back onto the bed before resuming her post. Her face didn’t even bother changing expressions.

Erica nodded her thanks before entering the room. Stiles lay miserably on the bed where he’d been thrown.

“I can help you.” He said between sobs, “I know all the cogs that sail to Trenlios. They have meageries and tapestries, gold, silver, everything.”

“That’s not going to work sweetie. Derek selected Boyd and I because we love him. We wouldn’t give him up for the world.”

Stiles rolled over and continued crying. She sat by his bed, “Listen, I know this is hard. And I’m sorry. I don’t envy your position. But every flight begins with a fall.”

She moved to stroke his hair but he flinched away, “Derek is a Hale, third in line to the throne. He’ll treat you well. A year from now you’ll forget all this in your happiness.”

There were only sobs, “Come, have something to eat. It’s quite good, Danny is the best cook there ever was. It’s healthy and will bring your strength back.”

Erica stirred the bowl and took a bite, “See? Mmmm, it tastes amazing.”

The miserable figure didn’t move.

“You have to eat. I know you’re hungry from your journey. And I know what the soldiers eat. This will make you feel better.”

Stiles shoved the food away and more stew went splattering on the floor, “Nothing will make me feel better.” He screamed.

Erica looked at the soup on the floor and grit her teeth.

When she came back with a bucket and a scrub brush Stiles was huddled in the corner with a blanket, a grey miserable lump.

“You’re going to make me one of you.” He said bitterly.

Erica didn’t see any reason to lie to him, “Well...he is. Not me. Weres don’t mate with humans.”

“I’m going to be a...beast.” The realization was tinged with horror.

She put her hands on her hips, “Do I look like a beast to you?”

Stiles looked at her and began crying again.

Erica sighed and began cleaning.

▲▲▲

When Stiles woke up he was back at Stillsea. The bed was comfortable, the covers warm, and the sun was shining through the window. It was another day and he had court and sword practice and had to discuss trade deals with the council. His eyes fluttered open and all of a sudden he realized exactly where he was and slammed them closed.

Maybe it had been a nightmare. If he just went back to sleep he’d wake up in his real life with his father and his knights and the ocean roaring below.

But the time that trickled by only brought him closer to reality.

Stiles sighed and sat up, a heaviness in his eyes.

Someone had left him a glass of water. He licked his chapped lips. Water was not food. He grabbed it and chugged it down.

And that was it. All there was to do today for him. Except sit there and count up all his mistakes.

▲▲▲

Erica and Boyd walked to Stiles’ room with a bowl of sweetened porridge and water.

“I don’t think this kid is going to make it.” She ventured.

“Derek said he was the one.”

“He might have been wrong.”

“Even if he was, he’s still our Alpha. And he gave his orders”

Erica sighed, “Yes. He did.”

The guard opened the door for them.

They walked into the room. It was empty. It might have fooled Erica had she not heard a fluttering heartbeat coming from underneath the bed.

Her and Boyd gave each other A Look.

She set down to porridge and together they lifted the bed.

“Good morning Stiles!” She said cheerfully, “Breakfast!”

Stiles looked like he was going to cry again but instead he rolled out and stood up. She gave an inward sigh of relief.

They set the bed down.

“I won’t eat.”

“But you must be hungry.”

“I don’t care. I won’t eat anything from this place.”

Erica sighed, “What will Derek say when his mate-to-be starves himself to death?”

Stiles began pacing, “Maybe: Oh, I don’t think I should marry this one.”

“He chose you.” Boyd said.

“Why me? I literally have never met him before in my life. He conquered my kingdom, picked me up, and threw me into a prison. He’s said like, four words to me in all.”

Erica laughed, “That sounds like Derek.”

“He said you smelled right.” Boyd explained, “Weres go off of scent. It’s how they check for compatibility.”

“That’s dumb. And idiotic. And stupid all at once. I don’t even have the words for how stupid that is. He burned my ships and slaughtered my people. He’s a savage.”

Erica grabbed Stiles by the arm and sat him down on the bed, “Stiles, I’m going to tell you something. It is going to be a list of facts. One: you have been captured by a savage. Two: you are at these savage’s mercy right now. Three: the only reason you are not dead is because you’ve been selected as a mate for a savage.”

“Fucking werewolves.” He spat out, “He’s a halfwit for choosing me. He-he killed my father.”

“That is war Stiles. We’ve all lost people we love. You should have bent the knee earlier.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” His voice was tinged with regret but she didn’t let her pity dampen her next sentence, “The full moon is tomorrow night. You are expected to don a gown and mate Derek Hale. If you choose not to, the Hales will kill you. The choice is yours.”

Boyd looked ill at the lie but it wasn’t like he was saying anything. Her job was to get Stiles in bed with Derek and that’s what she was going to do.

Stiles had vowed to himself that he would perish with the rest of his kingdom. He would be remembered as the last of the Stilinski’s, standing against the Hales until the very end. But the question came from his lips, “How would they kill me?”

“Claws to the throat. Simple, quick, and easy.”

Erica saw how Stiles was afraid of werewolves. If he thought they were monsters, then she was going to use that fear to her advantage.

“And if I choose life I’m expected to… be with him.”

“Until death do you part.”

Boyd shifted, “You don’t even know him. He’s not so bad. Kinda quiet and serious.”

“If you were me, you’d hate him.”

“And if you were us, you’d love him.” Erica added smoothly.

Stiles just glared at her. She took his silence and filled it, “How much do you want to survive Stiles? Does your life mean anything to you? You should have perished with Stillsea but you are here, breathing. You do what you need to do to survive.”

His eyes filled with tears again but he brushed them off and turned away from them.

They left him hunched over on his bed, ignoring the rapidly cooling porridge to congeal on the nightstand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd POV

When they arrived with lunch, Stiles was laying in the bed staring at the wall.  
His sadness permeated the air.

“Lunch!” Erica said cheerfully. He didn’t move.

She gave him a worried look and launched her faux cheerful tone, “We’ve got some chicken and sweet carrots. And I talked to Danny, and I managed to sneak you a sweet potato.”

She set it down. The lump made no response.

“Stiles?”

Boyd propped him up and he felt like a limp noodle. This was worse than his bargaining, worse than his bratty anger. Even worse than his tears, which made Boyd almost want to help him run away.

“Come on buddy, you’ve got to eat. You’re a survivor.” Erica coaxed him with a sugary strawberry. His eyes focused on her dully.

She tried again and again, but no attempt moved him. Just those listless eyes gazing far into the distance.

Erica gave up, putting the food down and turning to him, “He’s regressing.” She sounded frustrated and concerned, “Ideas?”

Boyd had none, “I think we should just stay with him. He’s been through a lot. The fall of his kingdom, and a mating on such short notice. Can’t be easy.”

Stiles gave no indication of being able to hear their conversation.

“How did Derek not tell him? He could have had two months of at least getting to know the idea. Now he’s in shock and we only have a day to get him ready.” She ran her fingers through her hair, “What do we do?”

“I don’t think there's anything we can do. He’s got to work through it on his own. Only thing we can do is support him through it.”

Erica sighed. She hated not doing anything, “Okay. I’ll go talk to Derek and see if he can get us off the rest of our duties today.”

“Sounds good. I’ll stay here.”

And so Boyd sat against the wall. He watched Stiles for a bit before closing his eyes to try and nap. He’d had another bout of insomnia last night and it had left him low-energy and with heavy eyes.

Erica returned, “We’re good. Issac is taking over.”

And so they sat there. Boyd couldn’t have said how long it was exactly. The sun crept across the sky. At one point, Stiles shifted to a more comfortable position. 

Erica picked at the mortar between the tiles

But finally….

“Do you think that I’m betraying my father by marrying him?” His eyes were still distant, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you hold to the Triad?” Erica asked. The Triad was the common faith of the humans of Cerania. They believed in sky, earth, and sea gods who were constantly at war, each battling for supremacy in the world they created.

“My father did. As far as I can see it, if the gods are real then they’re vicious cunts.”

“Do you believe your father is watching you today?”

“I hope not. He’d watch my treachery with a disdain.”

“Your father would want you to live another day.” Boyd said.

“Stillsea is burned and dead because we would not kneel. By all rights, I should have perished with them. A captain goes down with his ship. But here I lay, a coward, consorting with the enemy because I care too much about my own damn life.”

“If you want us to kill you, just say the words. But the truth of the matter is that your people are dead and gone. But with you, they live on in your memory. Keep them alive by staying alive.”

Boyd had never seen the prince look so small as he huddled underneath the sheets, “But I don’t want to be alive.”

Erica stood up and stroked his hair. He did not flinch away, “Someday, you’re going to have children. You’ll tell them about Stillsea and its people and your father and honor them by keeping their memories alive. You’ll grow to love Derek and your children will be at the height of our hierarchy. They will keep their own lands and have their own people. I know it feels like this is the end of your story but it is only the beginning.”

Stiles had lapsed into silence again.

Boyd went to go get dinner.

▲▲▲

He placed Stiles' plate on his nightstand. The Prince pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at the food, glaring at it, before hesitantly taking a bite. Boyd shared a relived look with Erica and they sat on the ground and began to eat as well.

“When do you think Laura and Kira are going to have another kid?” Erica asked him

“I don’t know. Deaton said she was near dead after Afton.”

“Kira’s a tough one. And she wants another. Laura is making her wait though.”

“I’m not surprised.”

And so they continued, talking about everything and nothing. The castle gossip, future plans, current worries. They stayed away from the topic of battle, although High Alpha Talia had plans to send Peter to march against Dorian soon.

Stiles still wasn’t saying anything but his eyes began to track them as they continued their conversation. They didn’t break conversation, but they noticed. It was something at least. But finally he deigned to speak, “Who’s Malia?”

“She’s Peter Hale’s daughter.” Erica answered, “Sweet little thing, but fierce. Her mother died in battle and we babysit her sometimes with Issac. You’d like her.”

No response. Boyd added, “She just turned seven but Peter has already taught her the basics of fighting. She’ll be a master someday.”

“More beasts to bloody the world.”

Boyd was taken aback by his bitterness. 

Erica frowned, “Ya know, we’re not beasts. We’re just a little different.”

“You think your sickness gives you the right to rule us.”

“It’s not a sickness.” Boyd said.

Erica cut in, “All the other kingdoms would have taken over Cerania given the chance. Neres tried to half a dozen times, the Argent kingdom is notoriously power-hungry. We just have the means to do it.”

“At least they’re human.”

“As opposed to us savage creatures that bathe in the blood of our enemies.” Erica jumped up, “What do you know about werewolves? Only those lies humans tell each other when they don’t have enough information on something. Lunae never held slaves, never destroys nature. You are the savages, not us.”

She stiffly gathered all their plates and Boyd could feel her barely contained fury. Stiles had withdrawn again, silent and still. She stormed out.

“I don’t want to be a werewolf.” Stiles said, “I wish to stay human.”

There were a lot of things he wished different nowadays, Boyd knew, “You will still be you.”

“But changed.”

Boyd didn’t have the words that Erica had to soothe him.

“I should go check on her.” He offered awkwardly.

He turned to go but Stiles’ voice called to him, “Boyd. Could you bring me a book?”

“Oh.” He was surprised, “Sure, what would you like?”

“Something with a happy ending.”


	8. Chapter 8

When Erica and Boyd walked in the next morning, Stiles was halfway through his book. It was a silly story, about a hedge knight and a princess, but engaging enough to take his mind away from his current situation. Which was all he needed.

“Happy mating day.” Erica said, shoving a plate into his hands. He frowned, but began eating.  
Boyd began unpacking the sewing basket, spreading some fabric and thread out on the nightstand.  
Erica wheeled in a mirror, of a lower quality than they would have at Stillsea. He looked at the scratched surface. Was that really him?  
His muscles had atrophied and his tan was gone. His hair had grown long and shaggy. He looked away quickly, not liking what he saw.

Erica got out a measuring tape and began to write down his measurements, “Are you aware of Lunae mating traditions?”

Stiles shook his head no.

She measured his hips, “They’re going to take you into a grove of eucalyptus trees. The priest will say some words and you will say, ‘Alpha, Beta, Omega. You are mine. From this day until my last.’ Now, lift up your arm for me? Thanks. Did you get that?”

She repeated the words. He tasted bile.

“If you don’t say the words then the ceremony won’t be legitimate.”

“And I will be killed?”

“Yes.”

He grit his teeth.

“Derek is also going to bite you.” She tilted his neck, trailing her fingers across, “Right here. Remember, it doesn’t change you mentally, so it will still be you.”

Boyd was changing the sheets, “The bite is a gift.”

“A gift imposed on someone is no gift at all.”

“I won’t lie to you, physically it is going to be a lot to get used to. You’re going to go into a heat and be hypersensitive at first, with your hearing going in and out. Derek will ground you. Focus on him.”

Boyd handed her some of the different fabrics and she held them up his skin, “It will take you some time to get used to your new powers. But soon it will settle. Do you have any questions? We just want you to be prepared.”

“Is it reversible?”

“You will not be given that chance.”

When they showed up again at midday with food and a basin, Erica repeated the words to him, making him say them aloud.

“What is Derek like?” He asked as he ate. If he was truly going to go along with this farce then he ought to know if he was going to be beaten the rest of his life.

“Quiet.” Erica said, pouring water inside, “Strong.”

“He’s not like Laura and Cora.” Boyd added in, “He’s more like Talia.”

Erica hummed in agreement, “I see that.” She turned to Stiles, “You’ll like him if you got to know him. He’s not expressive like you but he’s got this sort of dry humor that’s super funny once you get used to it.”

“Why do you guys care about him so much?” Stiles undressed and stepped into the basin. The water was warm.

“I was his ward from Daytona. A distant cousin of the kings, sent to live with the Hales as collateral. Derek offered the bite and I took it.”

“You chose it?”

“Sure. Better hearing, better reflexes. I’m part of the pack now. You always have someone to rely on and they rely on you.”

“How cozy.” He said, the bitterness reaching his voice, “And you?” He asked Erica.

“I used to be a slave in Neres.” She said, soaping up his back, “Owned by a trader.”

She was still using a peppy voice but Stiles could feel a sadness from her, “I was a pretty sick kid. He was making his way through the mountain pass to trade with Lantia and I couldn’t keep up.”  
“They left you there?”

“To die.” She said, “But the Hales patrol the pathway. Derek found me in time to give me the bite and save my life.”

“Wow. I’m sorry.” Was all he could manage.

She shook his pity off, “It was a long time ago. The Hales have taken me in, given me an honored place.”

When they finished with the bath they began to rub eucalyptus oil into his skin. Boyd cut his hair, and brushed it till it shined.

His head felt lighter then it had for a while.  
But unfortunately that was not where the cleaning ended.   
They used a contraption to shoot water up into his butt, creating really unpleasant cramps that Erica had to talk him through before he shat out some gross smelling water.  
The only reason he survived the humiliating experience is because Erica and Boyd were so chill about it. They took everything in stride, sometimes not even stopping their conversation about the castle gossip. They tried to ask him more about Stillsea but he declined. It hurt too much to talk about.  
Boyd removed the foul smelling bucket and Erica got out a jar of oil.

“Sorry love,” She smiled at him ruefully, “It’ll make things go a lot easier. You’ve not changed yet so the slick has to come from outside. Can you lay on the bed for me?”

Cheeks burning, he lay on his stomach.

She warmed the oil in her fingers, “Leg up please.” She began to apply it, “Do you know anything about werewolf mating rituals?” She said in a matter of fact voice as if she wasn’t fingering him open.

“Ummm…” He’d heard that blood and guts were involved but was beginning to suspect that had been exaggerated, “No, not really.”

“After you are bitten and the words are said, you will both be taken to an opening in the woods to mate under the moon.”

Boyd entered, “Everything of importance is done under the moon.”

“It’s all normal sex stuff but werewolves also have this thing called knotting. When Derek comes, he’s phallus is going to expand slightly, locking him inside you. With luck, your body will recognize this and clamp down on him as well. Just relax and it will go down in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

How were they so matter of fact about this? His face was scarlet.

“I’m going to insert this wooden toy into you, is that okay? It will help you adjust and make things easier for you.”

Stiles nodded slightly and winced as she inserted it.

It didn’t hurt, not exactly. But it was uncomfortable. 

And he couldn’t even sit down to eat the soup Boyd gave him but scarfed it down standing up watching them add the finishing touches on his wedding garment. It was a thin cream shift with a low neckline and rich embroidery. He had to admire the craftsmanship if nothing else. It depicted a savage battle with the moon glowing bright above. Triskelions covered the sky.  
When they lifted it over his head, he shivered. The fabric was so light that it made him feel almost exposed.  
He looked in the mirror and grimaced. This was happening apparently.

“You look great.” Boyd said beside him.

“We did good.” Erica agreed.

She made him repeat the words once more and then he followed them outward. As they passed through the corridors, Stiles could tell he was being noticed. Weres stopped and bowed their head toward him.

Stiles didn’t know what to think about that.

They broke out into the darkness through a small exit, a door so hidden that he would have missed it if Boyd hadn’t been guiding them.

The air was crisp around them and goosebumps rose on his skin. His shift gave him no protection and he hugged himself to preserve his body warm. In front of them lay a thick dark forest with trees larger than he had ever seen before. The moon hung full and bright in the sky, turning everything silver.

They followed a dirt path that weaved through the trees. It was beautiful, Stiles admitted, looking around. Beautiful in a wild sort of way.

Boyd and Erica halted in front of a large tree, almost as wide as the one guarding the entrance. At first he thought it was just one tree but on closer inspection he realized it was melded with other to create a wall. There was a hidden entrance to his right, a place where the trees bent around.

“This is where we leave you.” Boyd said.

“Don’t forget the words.” Erica said, repeating them one last time. She hesitated, and then gave him a hug. He hugged her back. If Stiles didn’t know better, he would have thought there were tears in her eyes.  
He turned toward the grove, nervous fingers fiddling with his shift. He turned around and gave Boyd and Erica one last look. They nodded at him, motioning him forward.

He entered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rape and noncon warning. Please skip if uncomfortable.

It was warmer inside the grove. It had cut off the wind and the grass beneath his bare feet was cool and firm. There were no branches covering the interior and the moon shone down brightly. There was a stone fountain in the corner burbling. And ahead of him, Derek Hale, staring at him wearing an identical white shift.   
Beside him was a wizened old were female with thick robes nearly bald and hunched over.  
For a second, Stiles froze, doubting his strength. Could he do this? Erica and Boyd had thought so. For a second he felt himself gathering the energy to run away but that would be folly and he’d be caught in an instant. Remember them, he promised himself. Remember and remember and remember.  
He took a deep breath and walked toward the stiff figure.  
Derek put his hands up and Stiles looked at them stupidly before joining them. They were warm and dry. He looked at Derek’s face but found he couldn’t read it.  
The female opened her mouth and began chanting in a language Stiles had never heard before, all sharp syllables and guttural vowels. She produced a small bottle from within the dark folds of her robes and smeared a line of oil on his brow and a matching one on Derek’s.

Finally she spoke, “Luna, I bring before you two figures, Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski. Underneath the Eucalyptus tree they stand, begging for your blessing.”

Stiles’ arm itched. But he didn’t dare take his hands away from Derek’s.

“They are never free from your gaze and underneath it they will never harm or hurt the other, but treat each other with respect and dignity. They are to meet their difficulties together, as one, and protect each other at all cost."

That was the cue, Stiles knew.

He opened his mouth, his voice shaking, beginning a second after Derek, “Alpha, Beta, Omega. You are mine. From this day until my last.” The words tasted like lies.

She raised her hands to the sky, “Today, two have become one.”

Derek stepped forward, invading his personal space and Stiles wanted to take a step backwards but instead he stood there and allowed Derek to tip his head sideways.  
His breath was hot on Stiles’ neck and anxiety thrummed under his skin as he expected the pain. When it came he gasped, the burning sensation beginning from the teeth marks and traveling down his body. But he had been the Prince of Stillsea. He’d trained for hours, sailed around Cerania, fought in battles. He could deal with pain.

But by the time Derek stepped away, he felt woozy. Black spots danced before his eyes. Blood was dripping from his neck. It looked black in the moonlight. 

You won’t change mentally, Erica’s voice came back to him. 

Derek tilted his chin up and Stiles looked at the Alpha in front of him. Dark brown eyes. 

He thought he’d faint but his strong hands were gripping his waist, propping him up.

Derek lifted him up and Stiles let himself be carried to the middle of the circle. The grass was soft and scratchy and all of a sudden he could sense every blade underneath him. He understood what was about to happen. His head was spinning with endorphins. The butt plug jostled uncomfortably.

Derek sat down beside him and pulled him onto his lap. And all of a sudden Stiles was getting kissed and Derek’s lips felt so good against his that he tilted his head to get more of the sweet sensation. He felt dizzy.

He hadn’t been kissed in quite a while, not since they’d married Lydia off to Jackson to get that useless alliance with Dorian. Derek deepened the kiss and Stiles could feel his body reacting.  
Stiles’ thoughts swam around in his head but he couldn’t hang onto any of them. His hearing was going in and out, from amplifying everything to compressing it all in five seconds. He heard the buzz of the forest all around and then only their sounds.

Derek broke their kiss and tore the rest of Stiles’ gown away as easy as tearing a piece of parchment. He began to kiss down his body.

The air was cold against his bare skin and he shivered but Derek was warm, the heat beating off of him. Stiles became acutely aware of the old woman, who was still standing there watching them.

“Derek, she is watching us.”

He didn’t reply, instead picking him up and flipping him onto his back. Stiles wanted to protest but all of a sudden Derek was above him kissing him again and that skin on skin contact was doing something to him and it just felt so good that he let out a moan.

Derek looked like a cat that got the cream. Stiles’ face went red.

He took off his own shift, revealing a body carved from the Triad themselves. And then his gaze traveled lower and the sight made him gasp and look elsewhere. Derek had a massive cock. He had thought the butt plug rather large but shrank in comparison. He felt faint.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but all of a sudden he felt a pull at his hole. Derek had reached down and was slowly pulling the plug out.

He whimpered.

Around him, the night was alive. The moon loomed large in the sky, the trees rustled. Weres howled around them. Stiles closed his eyes to best block it out. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The toy was finally removed and the discomfort faded for only a second because then something else was nudging at his entrance and Stiles didn’t need to open his eyes to know what it was.  
Derek slowly began to push in. The sounds of the night were quickly fading into the background.

It was only slightly painful, Erica had seen to that, but the feeling felt strange and alien to him.

Tears began to leak from his eyes anyway.

Above him someone tilted his head upward and a rough tongue began to lick the tears away. He got the feeling Derek was trying to make him open his eyes.

Stiles didn’t want to look at Derek.

A warm mouth began to kiss him and the sensation made him forget for just a second what was happening. Stiles put his hands around Derek’s head as the Alpha kissed down his neck, tongue caressing the bite marks.

The shot of arousal that traveled directly from his cock made Stiles open his eyes. When he looked down he saw that Derek was completely inside of him, stroking him.   
On top of him, Derek’s dark brown eyes watched him.

Stiles leaned up to kiss him again but Derek moved out before shoving in slowly and Stiles gasped at the sensation. In and out again. Long, languid strokes that erased all of his thoughts.

So this is what it's like getting fucked, Stiles thought to himself. He’d always wondered. He’d seen the stablehands and the maids behind the stables after the feast, and Lydia had sent letters to him about it.

But he was the Crown Prince Stilinski, and he was supposed to save himself.

In and out, in and out, with a tempo that made it feel like they had all the time in the world. He wondered inanely if Derek had ever played a musical instrument. Most likely not.  
The discomfort had faded into pleasure and he found himself enjoying it. He stared up at Derek. His vision had sharpened and he could see beads of sweat starting to form on Derek’s temple, the scruff around his jawline. Derek reached down and nipped on his nipple and Stiles whined.

The pleasure was building up in him, slowly.

Derek began stroking him, and gods help him, Stiles whined. Derek just grinned.

Stiles was close. Derek’s hand was matching his thrusts and it felt warm and good and he needed Derek to go faster because he was close, so close. 

But a flush crept up to his cheeks when he thought of asking. 

His husband was apparently not very talkative but he must have understood because he began to speed up, faster strokes that jolted Stiles, pushing him into the ground.  
The sky above him, his heart beating in his chest, the cock pushing in and out. It was too much. With a cry, Stiles came apart into little pieces. Derek fucked him through his orgasm. When he became conscious Derek was still thrusting, smiling down at him.

And for some reason, Stiles was smiling back at him.

Derek withdrew and Stiles saw that he was still hard. He hadn’t come and Stiles felt bad, but then Derek picked him up as easily as if he were a rag doll and flipped him over.  
Derek propped his hips up gently and hot tears stung his eyes again. Was he to lose every shred of dignity tonight?

Derek entered him but it was a familiar burn this time. He could feel Derek’s hands caressing his hips. The angle was better and he soon found himself meeting every thrust.   
Derek had set a faster pace and Stiles gave up and collapse face first onto the ground.

He felt a gush of warmth and knew Derek had come.

He moved to leave but hands of iron kept him there and all of a sudden Derek’s dick felt larger. Stiles turned around and saw Derek’s eyes closed in bliss. Instead of getting soft, something was growing, he could feel it. 

Derek saw his confused gaze and laid him onto his side so they were spooning.  
Boneless, Stiles let him.

Derek began laving his tongue all over the bite mark, the rough texture soothing the pain.

“Mine.” Derek growled.

The first word he’s said to Stiles at all.

▲▲▲

Talia studied her map of Cerania, so familiar she could draw it out blindfolded if asked. With Stillsea conquered there were only eight kingdoms left. It would have been better if Derek could have mated Stiles as a means to bring the Kingdom together. But now they had a holdfast for the McCalls, and a strategically placed trading one at that. It would serve. She’d send Peter to Dorian, and perhaps Cora to conquer the smaller kingdom of Gyldan. It was high time she had her own conquest and Derek and Stiles needed some time to get to know each other.   
Her son would trust his Omega implicitly, she knew. But the Stilinski’s were shrewd. She would have to watch out for him. They could not have a threat on the inside, it would bring them all down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploads will be coming slower.


	10. Chapter 10

Warmth. The first thing that bled through his conscious was that he was surrounded by warmth. A presence was pressed against him and as he cracked his eyes open and saw his mate asleep beside him.

Time had lost all meaning but judging by the light coming out of the small window it was early morning.

He was wet again.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been, at least he could control himself. Derek had had to carry him from the grove and Stiles had rutted in front of half the castle as he’d been brought to these chambers.

He rolled onto his Alpha, nuzzling his beard. Derek’s eyes cracked open, “Again?”

Stiles nodded and lifted himself so he was sitting atop Derek, staring down at him. He leaned down to kiss him, running his fingers down his cheek before easing his way on, slowly and carefully.  
When Derek was flush against him, Stiles closed his eyes, taking in feeling.

“You’re magnificent.” Underneath him, Derek was smiling appreciatively with his eyes.

Stiles began to move, rolling his hips up and down, feeling the relief flood through him.

Derek sat up, growling, and flipped him onto his back and began thrusting, each stroke finding a deep region in his body. Stiles was whining and Derek must have understood because he began to thrust faster, pushing his mate over the edge.

“Derek.” He cried out, spurting over his belly, “Derek.”

They curled up as the Alpha’s knot expanded, the cloud in Stiles’ head rapidly dissipating. It was enough for him to comprehend his situation again, to remember his past. And with the memories came the sadness.

He heard a door open in the antechamber and Derek growled next to him, pulling them closer together.

A knock on the door.

“Hey, I have the book you requested.” Erica’s voice rang through the door.

Derek roared at the door.

“I’ll just leave it on the table then." She said quickly, before adding, "There’s food out here too, and some water.”

As the threat left, Derek began stroking his mate’s hair, appreciating the omega beside him. Their scent had permeated the room, making it feel more cosy than Derek could ever remember. He liked how Stiles breathed out Derek’s name. It made him feel valuable, like he was worth a lot. He liked having Stiles here, even if the first five days had been stressful. Stiles had been a mess, wolfing out in between of sex sessions. Laura had warned him about it being a lot for those first bitten and Stiles had been one hell of a handful. But gradually, it had slowed down and he hoped that soon they’d be able to rejoin the world. But every time Stiles came back to himself his scent turned sad. And when Derek tried to kiss him happy Stiles just pushed him away.  
And the only time he ever spoke Derek’s name was in the throes of his heat.

▲▲▲

Peter was debating with Talia about the tax codes when the newly mated turned up for breakfast for the first time. Stiles looked rough, with bruises down his neck and dark circles under his eyes. That was why Peter never advocated for biting and mating humans. The experience was a taxing one and they were too sensitive and delicate. 

It hadn’t always been like that. To keep bloodlines pure the Lunae weres kept to themselves. Bitten wolf was seen as secondary and born wolves were far more respected. But times had changed. The kingdom of Lunae needed to expand. His niece Laura had set the fashion of claiming a human for your own, turning them so they would belong to you.

Which, he guessed, had led to this mistake.

Derek pulled out the chair for Stiles to sit down but the Omega had already sat down leaving Derek awkwardly standing there.

The Hale family had a hierarchy and Stiles had just placed himself in Derek’s position. This meant Derek could either place himself at a disadvantage or, Luna forbid, explain to Stiles the situation.  
Derek chose the first option, sitting down hesitantly in the place that Stiles should be in.

Peter began to laugh but quickly stifled it as Talia glared at him.

Laura and Cora had ceased their argument and were staring at the couple quizzically. Stiles fidgeted.

Talia put down her fork and knife, “So Stiles, how are you finding being a werewolf?”

A surge of hate emanated from the figure, "It's fine." He said stiffly.

High Alpha Talia, Rightful Protector of the Twenty-two Kingdoms and Guardian of the Realm smiled at him, "I imagine it will be disorienting at at first. But Derek will teach you how to hone your powers."

He did not respond.

Kira spoke up, “I found it difficult as well.” She smiled at him, “When Laura bit me I couldn’t figure out how to control my hearing. I spent the first month wincing at everything.”

Both Stiles and Derek looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here. Well, at least they had something in common.

He dismissed them and turned back to Talia to explain just why their tax collectors should be were and not human.

▲▲▲

Stiles was not a good werewolf. His hearing kept going in and out and his claws would come out and retract without his permission.

At one point his teeth grew out without noticing and he’d bitten himself on the lip. 

Musing over the destruction of his kingdom had him wolfing out and he launched himself at Derek one day, but Derek had only batted him aside like a gnat and the power he’d felt behind the shove had scared him back into a human.

Stiles had a hazy recollection of Derek talking him through it in his heats but now that he was fully in control he’d rather deal than ask Derek for help. The couple times he’d tried Stiles had snapped at him, making the Alpha shrink back. The hurt expression had made him feel guilty and his guilt had made him angry. Why should Derek be the one hurt here? It was him that was in pain.

Life as a Hale Omega was repetitive. They’d wake and eat breakfast, and Derek would go with the Alphas to the council while he would go with the other court Omegas to the nursery to sew and weave. Stiles didn’t know how to sew or weave. Stillsea had always gotten their cloth and clothes from trading vessels. But in between taking care of her cub Kira managed to teach him and slowly, Stiles began to get it, although his stitches were always crooked. Nobody would be wearing anything of his anytime soon.

Lunae’s library was pitiful. Most of it was children’s books for cubs who were learning to read and they had a shelf devoted to maps as well as a a well thumbed through erotic section but as for actual books there were less than twenty, each seemingly duller than the last.

What he really wanted to do was go sailing. To feel the wind in his hair and the sun beating down on his face as the salty surf sprayed below him. He missed his fleet and his captains. But Captain Stilinski was over and done.

But at the very least he wanted to go to the training yard. He was restless and bored, the only thoughts in his head were of Stillsea. He wanted to feel the thrum of steel in his hand, feel powerful as he tested out his were powers. But he doubted that werewolves had even training swords, given that they fought with their claws and teeth.

His nights with Derek were icy cold. Stiles didn’t know this Alpha, didn’t want any part of someone who had killed his father. Derek had made a couple of advances but Stiles always refuted him and Derek hadn’t tried again. Conversations were nonexistent. The Alpha never seemed to talk, and sometimes Stiles wondered if he even knew how to.

It was fine. Stiles didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I have decided that this is going to be a series.

The full moon hung low in the sky. Stiles could feel the pull, a calling. All day his claws and teeth had been protracting, his hearing going in and out.  
Kira had been trying to teach him some tips. They wouldn’t respect him if he didn’t have any control, she said. Especially as a bitten wolf. Any lack of composure was seen as weakness.  
Recently it had been getting worse. Stiles had seen the sideways glances at dinner, Derek’s concerned looks as he clenched his fists so tight that blood ran down his wrist.  
And tonight was the full moon.  
The nursery was giving off a slightly maniacal energy today. Omegas paced around, patting their babies on their back and cubs ran every which way, restless. Even old Nan was tapping her foot as she knit by the fire.  
It was pissing Stiles off. He couldn’t get this stitch to go straight and so he’d tried to undo it but something had happened and now it was tangled. Kira’s Afton came up to him and tugged on his clothes, “What?” He snapped at him.  
The little tyke stumbled backward with widened eyes and Stiles realized his eyes were glowing, fangs and claws out.  
Stiles stood up quickly, knocking over his chair.  
The other Omegas were staring at him and he stumbled backward, out of the room, mumbling out an apology.  
Someone had followed him out and Kira had grabbed him by the arm, “Are you okay?”  
Stiles had completely wolfed out. His vision was turning red. He reached out to strike the figure in front of him.  
Kira caught his hand, “Calm down Stiles, I want you to take a deep breath. Think about Derek.”  
Derek. Derek the Alpha that had taken his kingdom away and his family and his pride and his power.  
Stiles launched himself at Kira.  
And all of a sudden Stiles found himself pinned to the ground, Kira sitting on his chest.  
“Stiles I need you to focus on my words. You need to think about a moment in your life. A time and a place when you felt on top of the world and nothing could bring you down. Find that moment in time and focus on it.”  
Stiles did. His fifteenth name day. It had been more than a year ago. They’d had a tourney and Stiles had gone to bed aching every night from training.  
He remembered the garland of flowers placed on his head, his father beaming in the distance.  
Stiles rolled over and put his head between his knees and breathed. When he rose he felt exhausted.  
Kira was patting him on the back.  
“I would have killed you.”  
She smirked, “You couldn’t have.”  
“I’m a monster.”  
“There are worse things to be.”  
“Are there?” He didn’t believe her, “I’m out of control and bloodthirsty. I wanted to rip your precious little son’s throat out.”  
She bared her teeth, eyes glowing, “I would like to see you try.” She sat next to him, “It is not an easy experience, becoming a werewolf, especially not on the full moon. You need to learn control, embrace your inner were instead of chasing it away. You are not Stiles and a were, you are Stiles the were.”  
He just wanted to be Prince Stiles of Stillsea. But that was over now, over and done, “How did you get through it?”  
“I had Laura. She centered and grounded me. It wasn’t something to get through, but another thing to learn.”  
Stiles was silent.  
“You need to talk to Derek. He wants to help you.”  
Stiles got up on unsteady feet, “You’ll have to excuse me Omega Kira. I need to be alone. The other omegas will excuse me.”  
Except among the sprawling caves of Lunae, there wasn’t anywhere to go that he hadn’t been before. There were guards posted everywhere along the royalty suites. He’d tried to pass multiple times and every time they had turned him back.  
There was a labyrinth of caves and Stiles had only seen a fraction of them.

▲▲▲

The room looked empty when Derek entered until a presence launched themselves toward them and instantly they were grappling, rolling around on the floor. Derek managed to pin the omega down but Stiles still snapped at him, demanding a fight.  
Derek spent the afternoon trying to calm his omega down but nothing appeared to work. His mother expected them at the feast this evening. It would be their first appearance as a couple. The other Alphas would be watching them, looking at their strength and analyzing their weaknesses as Talia so often reminded him. But Stiles was in no fit position to be seen right now. Derek tried talking to him, yelling and whispering in turn but Stiles just continued growling, launching himself to attack Derek whenever the occasion came.  
This wasn’t working, Derek realized. Stiles wasn’t going to come back to himself, not this close to the full moon. Fuck it, he decided. He threw a blanket over Stiles’s head and picked him up by force. He struggled in his arms, tearing at the sheet but Derek, undeterred continued to move forward. In the hallway he ignored the strange looks as Stiles continued to struggle in his arms, eventually managing to tear the sheet away but by then they’d made it outside.  
Derek wolfed out and Stiles too and they came together and began fighting.  
Stiles was a clever fighter. Not as good as him, but still had surprisingly adept instincts. And as the full moon rose to its peak Stiles forgot his hatred, giving into his instincts. This wasn’t anger fighting, Derek realized as he heard his mate laughing. This was play fighting.  
They’d miss the dinner and Talia would probably be displeased but it didn’t matter because Stiles was beside him, running and chasing down rabbits and howling at the moon.


	12. Chapter 12

“He’s sad.” Derek said.

“I’ve noticed.” Laura replied. Stiles only talked at the table when asked a direct question. And Kira had said that he’d been withdrawn with the other omegas, preferring to sit in the corner and read.

“You didn’t have problems like this with Kira.”

“I assume it has to do with Stillsea. The kingdom you conquered and took away from him? The death of his family, his knights, his friends… should I go on?” 

“Ugh.” Her brother paced the floor, “No, I mean. I know that. But how do I get him to stop being sad?”

“Sometimes you just have to give this stuff time. Have you talked to him? Asked him how he is feeling?”

“I can’t do that.”

“He’s your mate. That generally means you might have to talk to him.”

He didn’t respond. She sighed, “There are other ways. Is there anything he likes? Make a gesture.”

“A gesture.”

“Yes! Something that shows that you care about him. When is he not sad?”

All of a sudden Derek got a distance look in his eyes and walked away.

▲▲▲

“Where are we going?”

Derek had shown up at the nursery with no explanation and called Stiles away.

“Outside.”

Stiles didn’t want to respond but his curiosity was getting to the better of him and he loved going outside, “Are we going to look at the trade route?”

“No, Cora is in charge of that right now.”

Derek nodded to one of the guards and they passed outside. A different exit, this one rocky and flatter. Stiles saw the mountains looming in the distance, purple and blue and endless.  
The path led them through a forest and into an opening, filled with sand.

“A training field.” He realized outloud.

Derek was watching him, “If you’re interested. You seemed to have so much fun on the full moon.”

For the first time in a long time, Stiles smiled.

▲▲▲

His mate sat on the dais, the picture of control and omeganess. The second full moon had found his mate in full command of himself. Their training sessions had given Stiles the ability to understand his powers and use them to his advantage. His sad smell hadn’t disappeared, but it no longer permeated the room as it had. Talia looked at him, and then Derek, and nodded her approval.

▲▲▲

The fights had given him rare moments of distraction and it was this that allowed him to scrape up the courage to address something that had lingered like a dark shadow in the back of his mind. He feared the answer but without the knowledge there would be no peace. Not like he was at peace much anyway.

He broke their silence as they walked back from the fighting pit, “Did you kill my father?”

Derek looked caught off guard, “Me?”

At least ten sarcastic replies filled his mind, each wittier than the last but his mood smothered them all, “Yes. I need to know.”

After a silence Derek replied, “I did.”

Stiles swallowed the lump. He had expected as much but the knowledge still hit him, “How did he die?”

“Defending the tower with his three silver knights.”

“You killed all three?”

“Myself and Scott McCall.”

Ser Martin, Ser Giscard, Ser Freed. All gone now. Stiles wanted to weep.

“Did they die bravely?”

“Brave enough.”

Brave enough for a human. He heard the unsaid words.

“And my father?”

“With a sword in hand.”

“A quick death?”

“Of course.”

Stiles was torn between wanting to know more and knowing he shouldn’t, “Did he say anything?"

Derek shook his head, “There was only the fight.”

Stiles nodded and receded to the back of his mind.

▲▲▲

The small council had been interrupted by a guard announcing a fire in the North wing.

By the time they’d arrived the dining room had been reduced to a smoking disaster. The tapestries were scorched, their eucalyptus table, ash on the ground.

His mother grabbed his arm, “Find Stiles.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read end of chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read end of chapter notes.

Derek sprinted to the nursery. The guards stopped him at the door and he growled at them.

“No Alphas allowed.” The Beta said. 

He ignored her, pushing himself through the door.

They Betas shoved him back and he wolfed out, ready to shred them to pieces.

“What’s going on?” Kira appeared in the doorway, holding a terrified looking Afton.

“Where is Stiles?” Derek asked her, not taking his eyes off his opponents.

“He should be in your chambers. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“I need to check the room."

“Is there a problem?”

“We can’t find Stiles. I need to make sure he’s not in there.”

She hesitated, then nodded. The two Betas stood down and she took him by the hand and led him inside. 

He scanned the room of Omegas and cubs. They stared at him half in fear, half in fascination.

No Stiles.

He turned around and raced to their chambers, but he already knew it would be empty. 

▲▲▲

Stiles had originally planned to kill the guards. But they were always in pairs which means he couldn’t take them physically and he didn’t have his herbs. The best way to escape would be for them to not know at all that he would be gone at all.

And this would require a diversion. 

Tunnel collapse was impossible, missing child too nefarious. But fire… fire could work. Torches lined the wall and eucalyptus oil was flammable. He'd taken the cloth he'd woven and set it alight, before hiding near the exit and slipping out.

His time in the nursery had yielded him the ability to sew together a rucksack. It wouldn’t hold nearly as much as he could wish but the name of the game was stealth and speed. He’d have to be careful with the weight he carried.

He didn’t dare steal food from the table, instead asking Boyd and Erica to bring him snacks. Some of it wasn’t portable. He had no container to carry the lentil stew but he’d managed to hide away some fruit and nuts, as well as some bread, cheese, and some sort of cabbage vegetable.

The water was a more difficult problem. Erica and Boyd looked at him suspiciously when he’d asked for a water skin. He’d have to rely on the river and that meant he couldn’t make a mistake. Missing the river meant he’d die of dehydration, simple as that. He looked down at his book, wondering how accurate it was. He’d lifted The Lands of Lunae and The Surrounding Kingdoms from the library. Written by High Alpha Aralith Hale it was a dense read, but fascinating. Even if the maps were accurate it was quite likely the topography must have changed in the past hundred years.  
But it was all he had to go off of, so he had to trust it.

The West would lead him to the mountains but even he knew that he wouldn’t survive that bitter journey, especially not in the winter. The South would just be more Lunae woods and tribes. He dearly wanted to go North, to the seaside. Returning to a place where he felt most comfortable might give him an advantage but it was far too predictable. They would track him there in a second.  
That left East, toward the kingdoms of Neres or Telvia. Neres was a pit of vipers, with an economy still hurting since Lunae had outlawed slavery. But Stiles had studied the map and it was closer. And he could use an opportunistic viper for his own advantage not like the oh so loyal Erica and Boyd.

▲▲▲

Talia had let Derek organize the search. It was his mate, and his duty to bring him back. But she had demanded that only those close to them know. A missing omega was a sign of weakness, and they could not look divided.  
He’d grit his teeth at that but she was his mother as well as his Alpha and he’d obeyed.  
He’d separated them into eight groups of three, all fanning out over the land. A solid plan, but Stiles must have had one as well. She shook off her doubts. This was Hale land, this was Lunae. They’d find him. If he wasn’t found by tomorrow, Talia would raise all of Lunae. No stone would be unturned.  
She watched her son howl, a long lilting call that echoed into the distance: Careful Mate. I am coming for you. I am coming.  
And they set off. 

▲▲▲

High above the castle of Lunae, a figure clutched the branches of the eucalyptus tree. He’d dabbed eucalyptus oil onto himself to blend his scent in. The howl made him shiver. He told himself he was high enough off the ground for the wind to hide his heartbeat. He watched the different groups depart, his eyes drawn to Derek headed North with Cora and Boyd.

He waited until the sun began to set, clutching the branches and shivering under his cloak until the crowds in the courtyard had thinned. He swung down from the branches. No one chanced to look up. Unseen, Stiles began to run away.

▲▲▲

Stiles was exhausted. A deep night had fallen and his eyelids felt heavy. But the cold kept him awake. He focused on it as he kept his pace. Becoming a were had sharpened him, made him faster, stronger. And the training sessions with Derek had seen to his control.

Every once in a while he’d place a drop of oil down to cover his scent. 

He passed different holdfasts and small villages, avoiding them at all costs. He didn’t know who was looking for him or how many. Every nose made him jump.

His reaching senses found the sound of rushing water and he ran toward it. It led him to a waterfall that tumbled down into a crystal clear lake. The river. He’d found it even without a compass.  
He knelt down to drink, the water much needed, before looking at his map. This was the Carac river, named after High Alpha Carac who’d worked to open a system of roads along the kingdom. He’d follow this river up to Neres. It meant water and guidance. It meant survival.

But still, this was no cause for celebration. He was not safe yet. This was their forest, not his. Still on high alert, he opened his ears and all around him the sounds of the forest came alive. He sensed the moon at its peak. But still, he mistrusted the calm. He was the outsider here and they could be watching him even now.

A howl sounded distantly in front of him. He didn’t know what it was saying but for him it meant he needed to find a place to hide. He needed to find a tree. Weres were creatures of the ground and it had worked for him before.

As he took one last drink from the water his mind was drawn to the waterfall. The rush would cover up his heartbeat, surely it would be ideal to stick near it. There was a ledge of stone next to it and an idea struck him. He walked around the banks of the pond to inspect the fall. He’d read somewhere that the water could erode the land behind it. 

The base of the waterfall yielded him a perspective where he could see behind it. There did appear to be a depression behind the spraying water, although how large or small it was he could not say.

He decided to give it a shot. If it wasn’t large enough he could always go and find a tree, although he shuddered to think about how he’d sleep on a branch after being soaked in freezing water.  
He began to climb the ledge, the stone slippery beneath his fingers. The spray was cold. His sweat had already begun to freeze and it had sent a deep chill through him. If he fell into the water he’d freeze to death.

He told himself that he’d rather die from exposure than go back to Lunae with his tail tucked between his legs.

Hauling himself into the cavity, he was happy to find it large enough to hold him. Although damp and dirty, it was better than sleeping on a tree branch. He was still shivering as he took off his cloak and laid down to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all - I have decided to do something a little different with this fic: basically at this point right here the story is going to diverge into two separate endings.
> 
> If you want to see what happens if Stiles' is captured, head over to the next part of the series 'Mate'.
> 
> If you want to see what happens if Stiles' successfully escapes, go over to 'Perish'.


End file.
